ARCHIE BEAL

JOHN BEAL

DAOUD

JOHN BEAL

He says he’s brought two watchers of the doorstep
to look after Miss Clement.

ARCHIE BEAL

Two chaperons! Splendid! She can go anywhere
now.

JOHN BEAL

Well, really, that is better. Yes that will
be all right. We can find a room for you now.
The trouble was your being alone. I hope you’ll
like them. [To Daoud.] Tell them to enter here.

Daoud [beckoning in the doorway]

Ho! Enter!

JOHN BEAL

That’s all right, Archie, isn’t it?

ARCHIE BEAL

Yes, that’s all right. A chaperon’s
a
chaperon, black or white.

JOHN BEAL

You won’t mind their being black, will you,
Miss Clement?

MIRALDA

No, I shan’t mind. They can’t be
worse than white ones.

[Enter Bazzalol and Thoothoobaba two enormous
Nubians, bearing peacock fans and wearing scimitars.
All stare at them. They begin to fan slightly.]

DAOUD

The watchers of the doorstep.

JOHN BEAL

Idiot, Daoud! Fools! Dolts! Men may
not guard a lady’s door.

[Bazzalol and Thoothoobaba smile ingratiatingly.]

We are not men.

Bazzalol [bowing]

Curtain

Six and a half years elapse

THE SONG OF THE IRIS MARSHES

When morn is bright on the mountains olden
Till dawn is lost in the blaze of day,
When morn is bright and the marshes golden,
Where shall the lost lights fade away?
And where, my love, shall we dream to-day?

Dawn is fled to the marshy hollows
Where ghosts of stars in the dimness stray,
And the water is streaked with the flash of
swallows
And all through summer the iris sway.
But where, my love, shall we dream to-day?